The Wicked Wife - Excerpt

It was a Friday afternoon and a few minutes after five o’clock near the end of another busy week. Rob Timmons, publisher of the Standard Community Newspapers, and Holly Cross, his production manager, were both surprised to hear the office's doorbell ring.

“Who the heck is that?” Holly snapped. She was more than ready to get out of the office and start her weekend.

“Whoever it is I hope they’re in and out of here in a hurry,” Rob replied. “We're supposed to meet Eddie at Smitty’s in thirty minutes.”

Holly sighed. “I better go take a look.”

She rushed passed Rob and looked down the steep staircase from the top floor landing of the two-story Victorian walk-up the newspaper occupied. “It’s Sylvia Stokes. What do you suppose she is up to?”

Sylvia, a tall, lean woman, who at sixty-four was approximately thirty years older than both Holly and Rob, was the community reporter for the Standard’s Peninsula edition.

“Well, buzz her in,” Rob replied. “Let’s find out.”

Hearing the door’s buzzer, Sylvia opened the door. Then, gripping the aging wood banister, she stepped energetically up the steep, dimly lit stairs.

“What’s up?” Holly asked as she hurried into Rob’s office.

“Terrible news I’m afraid!” Syliva replied ominously. “I was coming over the bridge on my way home from the city when I got a call from my husband, Jack. Oh, it’s just terrible!”

“Well, don’t hold back!” Holly prodded. Her appetite for hard news was only exceeded by her hunger for local gossip.

Rob sat down at his desk prepared to hear some bad news.

“You both know the name William Adams, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Rob said. “He and his wife Fran are on the Forbes list of the world’s wealthiest people. Highly successful venture capitalists. They live up near the top of Belvedere, on Golden Gate Avenue.”

“Yes exactly, well there's been a terrible accident.”

“Oh my God!” Holly exclaimed breathlessly. “Are they dead?”

“No, not both—just Fran! She died in a skiing accident up on Heavenly not far from their new home up on Lake Tahoe.”

“That’s pretty sad,” Rob said. “How old was she?”

“Fran and William were both the same age, fifty-five.”

“Yikes! Any details on how the accident happened?” Holly asked.

“From what Jack heard from one of his friends over at Berkeley, Fran went missing yesterday around sunset when she went off course on a downhill run. The ski patrol didn’t find her until noon today. She collided with a tree. Apparently, died instantly. Jack told me it’s called blunt force something.”

“Blunt force trauma,” Rob said. "In this case, it happened when a body in motion met an immovable object.”

Holly said, “Wow that’s sad. I imagine they’ll have a service for her in either Tiburon or Belvedere.

"They were both members of the congregation Jack and I have been a part of for years, St. Stephen's Episcopal Church in Belvedere. I assume that’s where they would hold the service."

“How well do you know them?” Rob asked.

Jack and William met because both are active in a UC Berkeley alumni group, but we’ve never been close. As you can imagine, we travel in different circles, but we're certainly acquaintances, neighbors, even friends of a sort.”

“They have any kids?” Holly asked.

“No. I suppose they never found the time to start a family. They invited us to a big twentieth-anniversary party they threw at their home. That was just four months ago,” Sylvia said as she was caught by the realization of how lives can change in an instant. “They were both corporate attorneys who worked with high-tech companies and became investors in many of those firms. At the party, they explained that they had known each other for years but never found the time to date. It was years after they met at law school that they decided to marry. They referred to it as part marriage part merger. Everything in their lives, including romance, appeared to take a back seat to their work.”

“Well, Holly and I have a standing date every Friday at five to meet our friend Eddie over at Smitty’s for an end of the week cocktail. Would you care to join us?” Rob asked.

“No, I'd like that, but Jack and I have a dinner date with friends over in Tiburon at six. We should talk further about coverage of Fran’s service. On the Peninsula, this is going to be a big story.”

“Call my cell anytime over the weekend with developments and text Holly when you have the date and time of the Adams service. I’ll try to get our community photographer, Michael Marks in Mill Valley, to go over to Belvedere for the service and shoot some photos to go along with your story. Poor William Adams must be devastated.”

"I'm sure he is Rob," Sylvia said as she got up to walk out with him and Holly.

Rob, stunned by the sad news, shook his head and said, “All the money in the world can never make up for a loss like this.”

* * *

Detective Eddie Austin was already into his first Guinness beer when Rob and Holly came into Smitty’s, a favorite neighborhood dive bar on Sausalito’s Caledonia Street. Located in the center of the only commercial street that day tourists rarely visit, Smitty’s was always quiet in the late afternoon. In four hours the music would be booming, and a group of locals would be celebrating the end of the workweek. But at this time the three of them could have a drink or two in relative privacy and downshift from a demanding workweek into a hopefully restful weekend.

“Sorry we’re a little late,” Rob said sitting down in one of the bar’s aged dark maple wood mid-century captain’s chairs. Tables and chairs were scattered haphazardly about the hardwood floor that on Friday and Saturday nights doubled as a dance floor. All three of them, as Sausalito natives, assumed little had changed inside Smitty's over the one-hundred-years of its history. That was undoubtedly part of its allure.

Holly waved to Gail, the only waitress on the floor at that early hour.

“Hangar 1 martini, extra olives?” Gail said as she gave Holly a tired smile.

“You know me too well!”

“Only when it comes to your drink of choice doll. Rob a Guinness, right.”

Rob smiled and gave Gail a smile and a thumb’s up.

“The end of another tough week I imagine?” Eddie asked as he took another sip of his beer.

“They’re all tough weeks,” Rob said, and Holly nodded in agreement.

“Well, Rob you were the genius who decided to add new local editions to the paper’s original Sausalito only paper,” Eddie pointed out.

“Yes, but if I had never expanded our circulation, I would not have been able to afford the services of the talented Holly Cross. Readership brings advertisers, and that's the only fuel that keeps our two-person business running. You cops can have a few slow months, and the landlord won't put you out.”

"True that, Rob. The business of law and order goes on regardless."

Holly stayed silent but nodded approvingly.

“You know, brains and beauty like Holly's don't come cheap,” Rob said raising his Guinness toward Holly in a toast.”

“Does that mean I should be expecting a pay raise soon boss man?” Holly said as she carefully tipped her nearly full martini glass in returning Rob's toast.

“Well not in the immediate future, but as soon as our ad revenue picks up some.”

“That might be a while,” Holly replied.

“Exactly!”

“Okay you two,” Eddie said with a smile and a shake of his head. “Speaking of local news did you two hear about Fran Adams?”

“Just did from our reporter over on the Tiburon/Belvedere edition. Pretty sad,” Rob replied.

“How did you hear about it, copper?” Holly asked.

“Heard it on the local news on the way over here. The reporter on KGO said the William and Fran Adams foundation last year gave over fifty million dollars to charitable causes around the Bay Area.”

“Pretty incredible people,” Rob said. “If Karin and I had that kind of money I would like to think we would be that generous.”

“Before you start throwing your money around, I hope I get that raise.”

“Don’t worry Holly; you’ll be in for a piece of the pie,” Rob said giving Holly a smile as she looked down at a text on her phone.

“It’s from Sylvia," Holly said. “She just found out from one of the deacons at St. Stephens that Fran Adams’ service will be eleven-thirty on Wednesday. They’re going to have a brunch following the service. They’re hoping for a big turnout from the congregation as a show of community support for William.”

“Wow!” Rob said. “I would imagine that’s going to be one serious buffet.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking Rob?” Eddie asked

“Should be one helluva a feed. Sure why not.” Rob nodded. “I’ll get into the office an hour early on Wednesday and leave an hour late on Tuesday night. That should keep us on schedule to get the Mill Valley edition out on time, and we’ll do extended coverage of the Adams funeral for the Friday release of the Peninsula edition.”

“You know,” Holly said with a raised eyebrow as she bit into an olive and pulled it off the end of a long toothpick she had been using to stir her drink. “I have to start hanging out with a better group of people. A valued member of our community has died, and all you two can think about is the buffet following her funeral service.”

Rob and Eddie looked at each other and then looked back at Holly.

“Pretty much,” Eddie said as Rob nodded in agreement.

“You know Holly you should come along,” Eddie suggested.

“Why is that Sherlock?”

“Well, you don’t have to be a world-class detective like yours truly to know that super wealthy people often have super wealthy friends."

"You think I should use a reception following a funeral as an opportunity to meet Mr. Right? I don't know, that seems a little creepy," Holly said while considering the possibility.

"Come on, maybe you’ll meet Richie Rich, I mean Mr. Right, and you can leave my best friend Rob high and dry when you move into that deluxe apartment in the sky.”

“I wouldn’t mind meeting a millionaire,” Holly said.

“Millionaire?” Rob asked in a raised voice. “Billionaire! If you’re going to leave me for a life of luxury, I want to see you sail out of Sausalito on one of those super yachts. You know, the kind that have their own helicopter pad.”

(c) 2018 Martin Brown. All rights reserved. This work is protected under copyright laws and reproduction is strictly prohibited. Permission to reproduce the material in any manner or medium must be secured from the publisher, Signal Press ([email protected])